It's A Mad World
by KenCosgrove
Summary: Alec McLane is nothing the advertising world has seen before: shy, slow, paranoid, and generally afraid of intimate relations. He keeps much to himself, but gets the job done. After hours though, the women beckon him like a siren.
1. Chapter 1

"So you'll be taking care of the kids then?"

"This weekend? I think Megan has a photo-shoot."

"I talked to you about this weeks ago Don, Henry and I are going to Cayuga Lake."

"Fine, what time are you dropping them off?" He mumbled.

"Well we leave this afternoon, probably around 4:00."

"I'm in the office until six." He stood, opening the blinds covering the large window.

"Then we'll drop them off at your office."

"Betts, I can't get any work done when they're here. Sally wanders abo..."

"It's just for two hours. I'm sure Joan, or one of the secretaries can handle them. I have to go, Don."

He hung up the phone in quick protest, and slouched back into his chair, rubbing his hands over his face.

"The old ball and chain got you turning tricks for her again?" Roger Sterling laughed as he walked up to the beverage cart, and filled two glasses with bourbon.

"Taking the kids this weekend." He drank from the glass that Roger passed.

"They're good kids. Good for you. Not good for the office."

"If I had a choice, I wouldn't bring them here." Don stood once again, and placed them empty glass back on the cart.

"Oh well. Guess we'll let the secretaries have a run at them. Give a chance for your boy to practice on the ladies." Roger winked, and Don smiled lightly. He opened the door and Roger followed him out.

* * *

"Alright pretend you're a housewife. What are you looking for in a vacuum?"

"But I'm not a housewife." Stan Rizzo protested, shaking a thin cigar in his hand.

"Just pretend you are." Peggy buffed.

"I'm trying." He stood from his chair. "I dunno, I'd want it to suck real well."

"I bet you do, Stan." Ken Cosgrove walked in behind him and the group laughed.

"Like suction, sickos." He protested once again. "Dependability, strength. You're the woman, what do you look for in a vacuum?"

"I guess how easily it moves."

At that moment, Don Draper moved into the recess of the creative room. "Where are we on the Electrolux spread?"

"You came in half an hour ago and asked the same question." Peggy grumbled.

"Because I was hoping it would have changed. I want an idea by 6:00; Dick Fenland is coming in on Tuesday. I want to give them something at least." He proceeded out of the room and moved swiftly for a cigarette in his pocket.

"Looks like we'll be ordering lunch in then." Stan picked up the phone.

"Can I get you a coffee Mr. Draper?" Dawn asked cordially as she stepped out of her office. "I'm just on my way for myself, I thought I would ask."

"Sure, thanks Dawn." He looked around quickly.

"Is something bothering you?" She pushed.

"No, I just have a lot on my mind. I'll be back in fifteen minutes, when that McLane kid gets in, tell him to go to creative. They need him there."

"I will certainly. I'll put the coffee on your desk."

Draper moved swiftly away, which left Dawn in the hall alone. She strutted past the many offices of their first floor eventually reaching the break room. Joan waltzed in behind her and bustling secretaries dispersed quietly as she moved in to fill the cups.

"Oh don't be so worried, I was a secretary too." She smiled quietly as the girls returned the favour, and began talking more loudly about office gossip. Their "Jim slept with Carol" stories didn't peak Joan's interests anymore. Not much interested her anymore.

* * *

Alec McLane walked through the tall wooden doors of Sterling Cooper and Partners at 11:00 am. He was let in by one of the newer secretaries who had forgotten who he was, because frankly, he was easily forgotten.

He stood a sturdy five foot ten inches tall, a light build, blonde hair, and wore a deep beige suit. Tortoiseshell horn rimmed glasses framed his eyes with a dark tint, and he looked either to be upset, or deep in thought. He would attribute the latter, but most would think the former. Roger Sterling hired him on an impulse when the young man of only 23 years sold him his father's other Duesenberg Model J for fifty cents on the dollar three weeks previous. Alec had been out of a job, and was scrounging for money. His meager and meek attitude towards work delayed him severely in his conquests to dominate the workforce, or so his father had said. It was truly Frank McLane who had landed the job for Alec: he set up the deal, and all Alec did was follow instructions.

Alec threw down his briefcase in the tiny office he shared with Peggy Olsen, and strutted to grab coffee. Upon entering the break room, he encountered Joan Harris. The buxom redhead frightened his nerves and he brushed his slicked hair over to calm himself.

"Mr. McLane, good to see you." She smiled, and immediately he gravitated away, avoiding prolonged eye contact.

"You… You as well." He stuttered slightly.

"Mr. Draper wants you to help out on the Electrolux account; I believe their brainstorming in the creative room now." She drank her coffee with such authority that Alec nearly spilled his own drink while pouring.

"Yes, yes, certainly Mrs. Harris… I mean Ms. I'm sorry, I... I'm forgetful sometimes."

"Think nothing of it." She grasped his forearm with her hand. "And don't worry so much. Especially about me, I don't bite." She laughed, and the secretaries followed. The young man's face flushed as he drank a large dollop of coffee.

"Yes, I'll be sure to. If you'll excuse me." He moved past her and sifted from the break room.

"He's damn handsome." Clara, Pete Campbell's secretary, mused.

"Yes, but so young. And so, well, I don't know how to phrase it. Just awkward perhaps? Clearly hasn't been with a woman in a while." Another secretary proposed.

"Or ever." Clara jibed.

"Enough," Joan silenced them. "Mr. McLane is a gentleman, and in rankings, is above you. I suggest you watch your tones." She began leaving the room but turned coyly before departing. "But handsome is shooting him short." She laughed.

All the womanly attention in the world would be lost on Alec McLane: He was blind to it at all. His last date was to his high school prom in 64'. He wouldn't breathe it to a soul though.

The creative room was bustling with ideas, and Alec almost walked in unnoticed. Ken offered him a Rothman's which he accepted. He leaned over and lit it with his gold snap lighter. Alec inhaled deeply and sat back into a short chair in the corner, sorting through his briefcase and grabbing his notepad.

"Glad to see you made it, bud." Stan turned for a moment after he smelled toasted tobacco alight.

"Electrolux is a vacuum cleaner, no?" Alec spoke.

"Yes, Einstein. Well they sell like refrigerator's and stuff, but right now we're doing the vacuum. Now start thinking of slogans. Peggy just shot down: We suck for your buck, but I think it's still good."

McLane smiled lightly and looked down to his empty paper pad where he began doodling.

It was after three pounds of Chinese food, two packs of cigarettes and a lot of reefer smoked by Stan and one of the creative boys from Cutler, Gleason, and Chaough, that they began hitting the breast strokes of creativity.

By 3:00 they had a full ad prepared and ready to show, and Stan was finishing the drawings, completing the mock-up when Don walked back into the creative room, wet from the light drizzle outside.

"Electrolux. Electrify your life." He stood for a moment, and unwaveringly said, "Not bad. For a first draft." He then walked to Roger's office and told Dawn to hold his calls for half an hour.

"That went better than I expected." Peggy butted a calming cigarette she had barely smoked.

"For a first draft." Alec inhaled on a fresh Kool. "We could have done better."

"If we had more than four hours, I'm sure we could have. But we didn't." Stan scratched his facial hair. "Anyway, I'm going home. Actually, I'm going to the bar downstairs, anyone want to join?"

One of the CGC boys piped up and Stan and he left the room.

"I think I'll work on the new Chevy spread for the paper." Alec mumbled.

"I'll join you, if you don't mind." Peggy smiled. He returned the smile and they began working.

* * *

Roger Sterling fumbled around in his pocket for a lighter in his white empty office. He stood by the window, looking out upon the expanse of skyscraping landscape. He thought briefly of Jane, followed by Mona, and then to his son in law. Caroline boomed through the intercom.

"Mr. Sterling? Joan is on the line for you."

He stood silently for a moment as he lit a cigarette.

"Why couldn't she just walk to my office? She's five doors down."

"I don't know, do you want me to tell her to come and see you?"

"No, no I'll take it. Put it through." He grumbled, sitting down in the chair, and picking up the receiver.

"Hello."

"Roger, glad I caught you before you left."

"I'm glad too. And what can I do for my Joannie?"

"Well, its Kevin's birthday this Saturday," She began.

"Oh, shit." He leaned forward. "I guess it is."

"Yes, well, I'm having a small get together, and I'm inviting you. It's at my apartment at 6:00, Saturday."

"I'll uh," He looked around briefly. "Yeah, I'll be there."

"Good, I'm glad."

"Hey listen, Joannie, I have the house free tonight, maybe you could come over."

"Charming offer, but I can't."

"Well what about I take you out on the town? Places we could go, things to see!"

"I have a date tonight, Roger." She continued.

"Dump it; I'm probably better company anyway." Roger inhaled on his cigarette smiling to himself.

"I can't, he's been planning it for weeks, and I want to go. I want you to be part of Kevin's life. There's no guarantee about mine."

"Fine." He butted the cigarette. "Who is it, Bob Benson?"

"See you Saturday."

"See you then." He defeatedly hung up the receiver and drank a slosh of gin from a tall glass. After tightening his belt, Roger flung the door to his office open, and walked past the main stairway to the hall where Draper's office was.

"Roger." He heard a familiar feminine voice calling his name; he turned to see a smiling Betty Francis with her children.

"Betty!" He smiled back, approaching her, and kissed both cheeks. "Good to see you."

"You too. Business looks to be doing well."

"It comes, it goes. You know how it is."

Joan walked out from her office with a folder in hand, and almost ran into Betty.

"I'm so sorry!" She muttered.

"Oh, no worries." Betty smiled. "Good to see you, Joan."

"Good to see you too: and good to see your handsome children as well. I'll be back in a moment, excuse me."

Joan walked rapidly to the creative room, dropping off the Chevrolet papers.

"Draper's kids are here, get ready to babysit."

"Draper has kids?" Alec asked quietly. "I thought he and Meagan were just married a few years back."

"This is from his other marriage, he was married before her."

Sally and Bobby quickly ran into the creative room, and Sally sat onto the desk beside Peggy.

"Hey Peggy. How's it going?" Sally opened.

"It goes. Just finished an ad. You wanna go draw?"

"I'm kind of old for that now."

"Suit yourself. Maybe you could look over our drawings, see how they are."

"Sure!" Sally smiled brightly. Bobby had found entertainment with a newspaper on the corner stand of the cabinet.

"Sally, this is Alec McLane. He's one of the copywriter's here."

"Pleasure to meet you." Sally sat down beside him, eyes gazing intently at his sketches. "I don't understand the ad. What's with the grandparents?"

"More character. " Alec blurted. "Makes it family oriented."

"Alright, I can deal with that." Sally murmured. "It's good."

"Thank you, for taking them. I know it isn't easy." Betty spoke to Don, who had just come out from his office. Dawn called him out.

"Alright. You'll pick them up Sunday then, what time?"

"9:00 then. We'll be back in the city by 7:00." There was a short silence between them, broken by Betty. "I'll just say goodbye then. Where did they go?"

"The creative room, they followed Joan in."

Betty smiled lightly to Don, and moved past him down the hall, towards the egress of the creative room. She peered in and saw Bobby, who was folding a paper into an airplane, and Sally who was sitting beside a younger man, watching intently as he drew a picture.

"Mrs. Francis." Peggy stood up to shake her hand. "Glad to see you're well."

"Likewise, Peggy."

Alec looked up, and suddenly went ridged in his form. He stood as if he was in trouble, or causing some. And he adjusted his glasses, Sally caught wind of her mother and walked to her, giving her a hug.

"You must be new here. I haven't seen you before." Betty smiled politely at Alec, who moved slowly to her. His lips went dry and his stuttering, more prominent.

"Ye… Yes, I just started last month. I-I, uh, It's nice to meet you." He extended his hand.

Betty smiled.

"Pleasure." She shook his hand. "I'm sure I'll being seeing more of you then."

"Goodbye Sally. Take care of Baby Gene." She kissed her daughter on the cheek, and began walking away. "Peggy, Alec." She curtsied, and moved back down the hall.

"You need me to reattach your jaw there pal?" Stan laughed, eating the cashews he'd stolen from Pete Campbell's desk. He had returned moments earlier

"For what?" Sally asked.

Peggy cut quickly. "Alec, could you take Sally for a walk? Stan and I have lots of work to do, and it's only… 4:00" Peggy sulked.

"Are you good in here, sweetie?" Donald Draper looked quickly to Sally who smiled joyfully.

"Yeah, I'm just going for a walk with Mr. McLane."

Don smiled to his daughter. "Is it alright if he goes?"

"I don't see a problem." Peggy continued shifting through the paperbooks.

"Good. Thank you Alec." Don turned away quickly and marched to his office.

There was a brief silence while Stan drew on the Chevy storyboard, Sally had gone to fetch her overcoat.

"Sizing up good ole Mrs. Ex-Draper, eh there skipper?"

Alec looked up from his drawing, embarrassed.

"Faintest idea what you're talking about." He mumbled.

"I saw the way you were makin' eyes at her."

"Who hasn't Stanley." Peggy retorted in place of Alec. "She was a model. Hell, she's still only 34. Or something."

"Yeah, guess you're right. Just don't go getting any ideas." Stan laughed.

"Wouldn't dare." Alec mumbled. "Wouldn't dare."

Sally returned within a moment,

"I'm ready."

"Lead the way." Alec followed her out.

* * *

It was a cool October day in New York City. Many people were wearing heavy coats to shelter themselves from the cutting wind, and even the women had reverted to shawls though they were quite out of style. Alec tightened the fedora to his head.

"How long have you worked for my dad."

"Couple of weeks now." Alec mumbled. "He's a good boss."

"Yeah right."

The indifference in her tone startled him.

"I think he's good."

"Of course you do." Sally continued. She hesitated a moment, and then stopped talking. They walked down Park Avenue in silence, people hurrying by them.

"Don't talk much, do you?"

"I talk when there is something to say. Not every moment needs conversation."

"I know that. I'm just saying, everyone else in there talks nonstop."

"That's because they feel awkward. People don't like having breaks in conversation. They feel like they are boring you, or boring themselves even."

"You're pretty smart for a low level employee." Sally smirked, Alec looked to her and did the same.

"I took a four year psychology degree at Kingsborough. Worthless in the end really: lest it comes to dissecting peoples habits."

"Dissect away." Sally chided.

"You mean about you?"

"Who else?" They rounded the bend onto East 42nd street.

"Alright. You're spoiled, just by your clothing. You think highly of yourself. You look down on your father, but respect him somewhat and you have distaste for your mother, telling from the way you brushed her off as she left."

"Whatever." She smiled. "I guess you're right. Buy me a donut? Mercies is just down the road."

"Alright."

Sally pointed to the sign as they approached, entered the bakery, and purchased two old fashioned glazed.

"You aren't half bad." She muttered, eating the donut quickly.

"Neither are you."

Sally Draper smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

It was quiet in the offices of Sterling Cooper &amp; Partners that Saturday afternoon. Saturday the 11th to be exact. The lights were out lest a few stray fluorescents dotting the ceiling. It was all quiet except one office in the main hall, with the door cracked open. A light plume of cigarette smoke wafted through the fissure and the consistent clacking of typewriter bars against paper could be heard throughout the recesses of the offices.

Alec McLane sat neatly in his beige swivel office chair, and rolled smoothly from his desk to his typewriter. Back and forth he moved, as if he was stuck in a pendulum. He'd been there since midday when his landlord had insisted on replacing the entire main floor space of the brownstone he lived in.

"Nothing better to do." He murmured to himself on the bus which ran from his brownstone to a second connector bus and then pulled up out front of the Met Life building.

Chevrolet demanded full attention, and all hands on deck. His portion of the work would be completed by 5:00, and then he would rest easy the following day while Draper breathed down other people's necks.

Midway through a sentence there was a rap on the door. Alec nearly fell from his chair, and his cigarette fell to the stack of papers burning a small hole in one.

"Shit." He mumbled.

"Mr. McLane? I'm sorry to startle you!" Joan pushed the door open further.

"I didn't know anyone worked on Saturday's."

He sat awestruck for a moment while he gathered his cigarette, relighting it.

"Anyway, I'm just here for a few hours, doing payroll. Come find me if you need me." She smiled brightly to Alec, almost as if to reassure him.

"Thank you Joan, I will." He smiled faintly and began tapping on the typewriter once again. She turned and proceeded down the hall, unlocking her doubledoor-ed office.

The hours dragged steadily, and the heat in the office climbed higher through the day. At 3:30, Alec stood and walked to the long couch stationed on the far wall. The combination of exhaustion, lack of food, and a steady stream of work, pulled him into a nap.

He awoke suddenly.

Joan was standing over him, watching him with keen eyes, paying attention to each little tick in his lips as he attempted to speak.

"Shhhh." She whispered, "It's just me."

She sat down beside him, and leaned onto his chest, making a quick dart to his face. She kissed him so intently it was as if her lips were glued to his face. He felt contentment, and began kissing her back. After a few hazy lust filled moments, their clothes began shedding, and the touching became more frequent.

"Hot, and heavy," As Stan would describe it, they were nearly making love.

He awoke suddenly.

The fan was running in the corner of the office on a constant oscillation. The cigarette laying in its tray had ashed itself to nothing, and there was a tall glass of water sitting beside him. Alec sat up, rubbing his face.

It was dark outside.

There was also a note leaned against the water glass.

_"Try not to work too hard. You may just force yourself into early retirement. - Joan."_

Alec stood up quickly, downing the water, and checking the clock. 8:30.

He walked sluggishly to the rack, and threw his coat over his back. His black fedora capped his head nicely, and soon the lights were out and the door was shutting.

"That was a long nap."

Once again, McLean fumbled in a frightened movement, dropping his keys to the floor. Joan ran over as he bent down, picking up the keys before he could.

"Truly sorry," She laughed. "I normally don't frighten people this much."

Alec smiled. That was a lot more than she was used to from him.

"Listen, I'm going to meet a few girlfriends of mine at a lounge downtown here. I think it would be good for you to get out, perhaps meet some people. Come along?"

"I, uh, I have nothing better to do. Sure thing."

"Good. It'll be fun." She smiled once again. "No more office, just fun."

They both looked happily at each other as the elevator rose to retrieve them.

* * *

"Henry, it's going to rain. Take us back to shore." Betty adjusted her white sunglasses that sat low on her nose.

"We've been out here for half an hour, give it some more time. The sun is bright, the wind is warm. It'll be a while before that storm shows up."

"Perhaps you're right. I just don't want to get rained on."

"You won't" He smiled comfortingly and threw his fishing line into the water.

"It's so pleasant out here." Betty spoke after a short pause.

"That's why I took you out here. I've been coming to Cayuga Lake for twenty years. Never been disappointed."

"I can tell."

Suddenly, Betty felt a raindrop.

"Henry. I just felt a drop of water."

"Oh it came from the lake, I just brought the line in."

"No, it came from the sky."

"No, it came from the lake.

And then another droplet fell, and landed on the lens of Betty's glasses.

"And there's another."

Henry felt a drop land on his forearm.

"I guess we're going back to shore." He said, disappointedly.

The little boat motor revved to life, and the turned around quickly in the water. Moments later, the heaven's opened, and a torrential downpour blasted the little boat.

"I told you Henry! I told you we should have went in earlier. Now my sundress is soaked in rainwater."

"I'm sorry Betty. I'll buy you a new one once we arrive in town." He looked straight ahead, towards the dock beside their cabin.

"I don't want a new one." She murmured quietly. "I want this one…"

The little boat pulled up to the dock and Henry held Betty as she hopped down the wet boards below to the grass in front of the cabin.

"I wished I'd brought more appropriate clothes." Betty changed her clothes in the small bedroom. "It's damp and cold here."

"It's normally hotter this time of year." Henry said, leaning out from the refrigerator. He came over with a smiling face and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, placing his head gently on her neck.

"We'll there's always things to do inside."

Betty's interest peaked a moment and she smiled.

"And what would those things be?" She turned to face him.

"Well, it may involve a bit of kissing…" Henry's grabbed the small of her back and drew Betty in. "Maybe a bit of clothes-shedding… Who knows?" Betty laughed lightly and kissed Henry. His hands and movements became more invasive.

As they began making love, her thoughts drifted. They normally did, but they drifted to a much different side of life. With her eyes closed in ecstasy, she found herself thinking of the young man from the office. His smooth bronze face reflected in the light of her imagination, she could feel his hands touching her arms, and his youthful lips kissing hers. It drove her to such excitement thinking of him.

* * *

"Oh you must have one more!" Clara yelped. "We've been here for three hours, you're surrounded by 6 pretty ladies: you must have one more."

The waiter smiled as Alec McLane nodded to him, giving the order for another round of highballs. The girls giggled, some quite drunkenly, at Alec's shyness and inability to use any moves at all. He simply eyed Joan, and sometimes Clara as they spoke: their voices thick, like the red wine that lacquered their teeth. Each woman was determined to put enough liquor into the man to cut him loose. And cut him loose, they did.

At around midnight, Alec had had 8 shots of Glenmorangie, and two bottles of Schlitz. His mouth was working far better now than it had before.

"You know, Stan really thinks you're cute Clara." He began.

"Tell me more!" She raved, her cheeks flushed.

"You know that black dress with the red polka dots? Yes that one. He told me you looked cute when you were wearing that one."

She flushed in memory and spoke, "Well, maybe I'll wear it just to tease him!" the girls giggled once more and even Joan looked to be enjoying herself.

"What about Joan?" Gisele said.

"Oh no, let's not play this game." Joan spoke up, but the ladies contradicted her.

"No! Alec has told us what others think. Now we wonder what the men think of you." Gisele pushed.

"Uh, I dunno." He blushed.

"Out with it boy!" Clara exclaimed.

"Everyone likes Joan." He smiled, and she smiled back.

"What else is new." Clara added.

"Oh come now, this is just a silly game." Joan retorted.

"It's true though." McLane sloshed the residue of alcohol in his glass. "Everyone likes you, Joan."

"Well thank you, Alec." She smiled to him. "Don't be so modest of yourself. There are quite a few ladies who would have a go at you, even at this table." She laughed and Clara choked on her martini.

"Joan!" She blushed. "It was just a comment Alec."

"I don't mind," he smiled bashfully. Lightly, and audaciously as he could muster, Alec leaned over and kissed Clara in the booth. "Now you know."

The other girls giggled around the table as Clara's eyes opened wide and her face flushed crimson red.

"I think we'll need another round." She laughed.

* * *

The night continued in a fast whirl. By two, Alec was kissing Clara in a taxi passionately. Their mouths melded in wet kisses and her hand was clutched to his face.

"Aren't you just smooth, when you actually speak." Clara laughed.

"There just isn't much worth saying sometimes," He kissed her once again.

"Interesting…" Clara grabbed Alec's hand and pulled him out of the taxi and up the stairs of her brownstone. "Let's just see how interesting you really are."


	3. Chapter 3

Sunlight cut through the drapes of the small, crowded apartment behind Magdeburg Gardens. An affectionate embrace was swept around Alec McLane's chest and he roused to warm breath hushing into his right ear. The tangled mess of comforter and blankets surrounded he and Clara. Her hair was a wavy charade blowing in the warm air swept around by a standing fan at the bedside, and her lipstick had faded: she looked better this way. Alec pulled her arm off of himself and leaned over the bed, pulling on last night's underwear.

He tiptoed through the bedroom to the adjacent bath, and ran a boiling shower, turning it cool to awaken the deadened senses. A loud pounding throbbed in his head. A hangover, no doubt. Clara had awaken by this point and was gingerly brushing her teeth , smiling at him as he stepped out from the shower.

"Hey tiger." She kissed his cheek. "You're good, for the quiet type."

"I-I guess alcohol makes me quite the stallion." He smiled slightly.

"Stallion indeed." Clara grabbed his manhood and laughed coyly. "Do you want some breakfast? Or are you leaving?"

"What do you have?" Alec took three steps out of the bathroom turning to face Clara. She placed a bra onto her chest, locking the clasp and looked intently into his eyes.

"You actually want to stay?"

"Of-Of course. I'm sorry, I don't normally do these things. I'm not sure if it's courtesy to leave before you awoke, or if I leave now, or…"

"I don't believe there is written guidelines for this sort of thing. Normally, I wake up and the men are gone, I think you're the first to stay. " She smiled once again.

"You do this often then?" He slid his crumpled blue shirt over his head.

"Hardly. My previous statement was gross exaggeration." Clara applied a small amount of mascara and buttoned her pink blouse. "You'll be my third."

"I'd like to take you for lunch." Alec buckled the clasp on his belt.

"You mean it?" She leaned out from the bathroom, reading his coarse blue eyes.

"Sure I do. There's a place on Lexington where they know me. Serves those little sandwiches you get as hors d'oeuvres at parties. Best Pate Baroni around."

"I didn't know you were so cultured." A kiss accompanied her words. "I'd love to, shall we go?"

"I'll hail the taxi." They left the apartment swiftly.

* * *

Betty Francis awoke with a jolt. A quick rap of thunder shot her up from her pillow. Henry was fast asleep.

She made no sound placing her night coat on, and slipping into the kitchen, lit up only by the inner refrigerator lamp.

A tall glass of milk would do.

It was cold in the small cabin, even with the glowing embers of a previous fire still visible in the fireplace's threshold. Betty imagined their lovemaking last night and smiled, but was a little miffed at its short fuse. She was not one to complain, but 5 minutes simply wasn't long enough. Her thoughts drifted to her children, wondering how and where exactly they were. Sally was, most likely, giving Bobby a hard time for nothing at all and Bobby being his usual nuisance self. Gene wasn't old enough to display any true personality yet. Perhaps Sally had learned to draw from the nice gentleman, what was it, Alec? Yes. It was Alec.

For not much of a reason it would seem, Betty became fixated on the man in her mind. His cool grey blue eyes held hers, his handshake was gripping, yet affectionate. His chest was broad, but not overbearing like some men. He had some muscle definition, though did not display it at all. He was young too, perhaps only 23. Soon, she felt a tingle in her spine and a warming sensation culminating below. "Oh, god. What's wrong with me?" An inner voice echoed. Despite the questioning subconscious, her hand began to wander, just slightly below her naval.

"Hello, Betty." The man mused.

"Alec, I've been waiting." She mustered, confidently. He came to her side quickly, and began unclothing her, beginning with her skirt, and leggings that followed. They kissed intimately, and began fondling each other.

"Betty." The voice murmured. "Betty…"

"Betty!"

"Yes!" She reacted. Henry was now standing through the door in the dark. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry, I heard you saying something, and I thought you were upset."

"Oh, no… I have a backache. I'm sorry dear. Go back to bed."

"Alright. There is medicine in the cabinet above the sink if you need it." He came over, kissed her forehead, and moved back into the shadows of the doorway.

"A backache." She smiled. "That was it."

* * *

Donald Draper was sitting motionless in the seat of his long silver Cadillac when he had an inclination to look for the time; 9:36 A.M. He was first to the red light crossing between the Bowery and Canal Street. A grey Jaguar rumbled beside him.

"Where's Megan?" Sally said, turning her head from the window.

"In Los Angeles, she'll be there for a while now. I'm visiting on an off."

"You don't like it there, do you?" Sally eyed her father intently, trying to catch any sight of weakness or upset. She received honesty in reply.

"No, I don't. But I'm doing this for her, not for me."

"I don't get why people do that. If you don't like it there, just tell her." Sally rolled down the window, the electric engine making a quiet whir.

"I wish it was that easy."

The light turned green and the car lurched forward.

"Are we almost there?" Bobby whined from the rear seat.

"We have a while to go."

The silver streak flew past business' as the car crept closer to the Central Park Zoo. Bobby fell asleep within a few moments, Gene gurgled in the backseat, much to Sally's chagrin.

"Dad, do you love Megan?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's pretty simple; do you love Megan, your wife?"

Don grabbed a Players from his pocket, and lit up. "Love is a complicated thing."

"It doesn't seem that complicated. Two people hang out a lot, they get to know each other. They get married and have kids. Then they get bored of each other, get a divorce, and do it all over again. Am I right?"

They both smiled sardonically, and Sally pulled a cigarette from her purse, lighting it with a large silver lighter.

"Since when did you smoke?"

"Who doesn't. Last year almost."

"You shouldn't smoke. It's bad for you."

"You're just fine." Sally exhaled through the window.

"Remains to be seen." Don tuned the radio and a Roy Orbison song began playing. There was a long moment where they both listened; Sally hummed occasionally.

"Did you love mom?" She turned to her father once again.

"I did, yes. Sometimes I come home thinking it will be her waiting for me. Instead, it's just me."

"Sad life. It's because you work too much. Took all the fun out of being a dad." Sally butted the cigarette in the door ashtray.

"We were young, well she was." His voice trailed a moment. "I think you mean, do I regret what happened?"

Sally nodded.

"Then yes. Yes I do regret it. But I don't think she does. Henry gives her more than I ever could. Bullet Park Road and supper at 6:00 never sat well with Betts."

"It's no better over there. She just pretends like everything is all happy. Whoop-dee-doo. Betty Draper Francis acting all cool and strong," She mimicked her mother. "Oh Henry, you're just the best husband ever, isn't this a great life?" "Why of course, dear! It's amazing, everything is simply wonderful, just like you!" "NOT."

Sally shouted, startling Don.

"She's more miserable than she was at the old house. I can hear her and Henry arguing all the time late at night, and over the stupidest things too. Like the other night we had a bunch of high up people Henry knew over, and she "talked out of turn." So Betty made a huge fit about that. I swear the neighbors were about to call the cops." Sally lit another cigarette, her face now flushed with anger.

"Grass isn't always greener on the other side I guess." Secretly, and without showing it at all, Don Draper smiled.

"No, but I guess that's all there is to this world. Life sucks, then you die."

"Why so cynical?" Don looked to his eldest.

"Why not so cynical?"

"We're at the zoo now." Don cut the engine as he arranged the behemoth into a stall. "We're a family. We have money. We have friends. Find pleasure in those things."

"Family, money and friends. The moniker of Donald Draper." Sally threw the cigarette from the window.

"Better than 'Life sucks, then you die."

"Yeah." She murmured. "Guess you're right."

"Wake up your brothers." Don stepped out of the car.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." A slight curve upwards showed on Sally Draper's lips.

* * *

"You've never left New York?" Alec questioned with anticipation.

"Never." Clara replied. "I've been too busy, ever since I was a kid. Grew up on Cayuga Lake, about 4-5 hours from here. My parents still live there. I came to the city with the dreams like everyone else. Hey, why don't you stutter when you talk to me now?"

"I only stutter when I'm nervous or excited about something. If I'm calm, I have time to think. I stutter when I think too fast, or too much. My mother said it was because my brain worked so much faster than everyone elses' that my mouth just couldn't keep up."

They both laughed in the morning air. It was 9:10 in Magdeburg Park: the sun was just cresting over the trees. Green grass covered what seemed to be miles of endless lawn, with much shrubbery and trees growing about.

"Where did you grow up?" Clara broke the stillness.

"Canada actually. I moved down here when I was twelve with my parents. My dad's a car salesman. Didn't take him much time to get a system going out here. City folk are a hard bite though, he always said something like that when he came home."

"Your parents sound charming."

"They're alright." Alec grinned. "Pretty good set if you ask me."

"You're a really sweet guy, you know that?" Clara looked affectionately to Alec, who turned rouge with bashful pride.

"Well, I d-don't think so. M-Maybe a little bit; I'm sweet to people who matter to me."

"I matter to you?"

"Of course you do. I wouldn't have taken you on this walk if you didn't"

"I guess this is romantic." She pecked him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you."

"Of course, of course."

They held hands, walking in silence for a good moment, the larks singing around them as they pushed further into the greenery.

"Listen, I'm going to see my parents at Cayuga Lake today. It's a pretty big hike up there, but if I leave now I can make it back before nightfall. I'm not really one for driving, would you mind…" She looked to his eyes.

"Driving you up there?"

"Would it be too much trouble?"

"The least bit. We'll take my car; it's a 40's Studebaker. Ole Bessie'."

"I could pay you for gas." Clara's face lit up like the wonder in a child's eyes.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Wouldn't even dream of it."


	4. Chapter 4

It was 2:30 in the afternoon on a warming Sunday when Ole' Bessie rolled up to the McAllister residence, shore side of Cayuga Lake. The trees had shed their leaves with urgency to the coming frost, and the road was covered in foliage, nearly invisible under the wheels of Alec's Studebaker. Clara was applying her mascara once again, and her hands fidgeted as they approached the farm house style home of her childhood.

"We're friends out for a drive, I don't want my father to put on the guard, not yet at least."

"Understood."

He killed the engine in front of the sweeping drive and they stepped out from the car. An older woman, perhaps in her later forties, or early fifties, stepped outside and ran to Clara, arms up in rejoicing.

"Clara! My darling!" She shouted.

"Mother!" Clara shouted back, and ran into the embrace.

"It's so good to see you, I hope you're doing well with work! You know your father hurt his back last week? He fell from the veranda, the poor dear. Oh! Excuse me, and who's this young man?"

The woman turned her gaze to Alec.

"Mother, this is my friend. His name is Alec, he works with me."

"Not as a secretary, I hope." She smiled acceptingly, and Alec shook her hand.

"Marion."

"It's a p-pleasure."

"Likewise. Will you be joining us this afternoon?"

"I don't see why not." Clara chirped, and ascended onto the veranda. She opened the large oak doors guiding the others indoors. "Father!" She shouted. There was no response. "Father." She said unamused. "He always plays these silly games, he thinks I'll believe he's gone or something."

Suddenly an elderly man with a full head of silvery white hair moved from the back porch indoors. His deeply creased lips turned to grin and he embraced his daughter.

"It's been too long, love." An Irish accent protruded his speech.

"Well that's why I came." She let go momentarily.

"This is my friend, Alec. He's a FRIEND, dad. Don't go gung-ho on him."

"Never would have dreamed it." The older man moved swiftly to Alec, extending a hand.

"Any friend o' me daughters, is a friend o' mine." His handshake was so firm it hurt, intentionally of course.

"It's a pleasure, M-Mr. McAllister."

"I like this one already. Got his senses about'im" the old man grinned and a mouthful of yellowing teeth shone back.

"You should take Alec to the lake, show him around the grounds." Her mother piped from the living room.

"Sure, if you'd like?" Clara motioned to the rear door.

"Of course, of course." Alec held his hands tightly behind his back, thinking it some sign of respect.

The tour began on the rear deck, which swept clean around the house, a few outdoor furniture pieces scattered the porch. There were two large oak trees in the backyard, if one could call it that. One had a tire attached to a rope, and the other sat near the water's edge. There were no fences between the properties of neighboring houses, just the simple notion that one did not intrude on others privacy. Each house had a dock attached to it, or so it was in this area of the lake. There were two lawn chairs sitting near the water's edge.

"Come sit." Clara motioned. Alec sat down, looking reluctant about it all. "Quit being so shy. No one's going to bite you here."

"I know, it takes some getting used to for me. I don't warm up to everyone so easily." Alec observed the lake surrounding him, and felt his heart slow down. His nerves began to ease. It was going to be alright here.

"How often do you come up here?" McLane broke the tranquility; Clara opened her eyes from her daydream state.

"Twice a year, Christmas, and Thanksgiving. The rest of my family comes too. I wish I could get out here more often. I actually came back to grab a bunch of papers for work, I left them here a long time ago."

"That's a shame. It's beautiful here, so calming. I could live here one day, perhaps."

Clara closed her eyes once again. "I could as well."

From the corner of his eye, a figure emerged on the dock adjacent to the McAllister's pier. Alec cocked his head to left slightly, cracking one eye open from his rest. It was a woman, perhaps in her thirties, blonde hair from the brief glance. She was in a swimsuit, a two piece, with white sunglasses on. Alec returned to his comatic state.

"Who lives next door?" his voice broke.

"Some man who works for the governor, Henry Francis. I think he's his advisor. They come out occasionally; he and his wife. It's a summer house to them."

"Must be nice." Alec laughed.

"With riches come responsibility and problems. I think I'm just fine the way I am." Clara affirmed.

"True."

But as any red-blooded North American man would do, his eyes crept open just once more to gaze.

* * *

Everything is happening too fast, the girl thought.

The pain in her abdomen was unbearable, and the cold air outside nipped constantly at her dirt covered feet.

She was huddled beneath a street light on Oneida Avenue, in Channing Park, a district of Detroit. What am I going to do? She screamed internally. There was a phone booth ten feet from herself. 911, she murmured…

Channing Park Hospital's emergency doors burst open and a young woman was wheeled through the opening from an ambulance. She was in her early twenties, and was having severe contractions, along with low blood pressure and had the beginnings of hypothermia. A torn fur coat adorned her body, her hair was a mess, and she was lacking footwear.

The head man on staff, Dr. Rudy James was at her bedside, getting information from the withering person before him.

"Do you have a name, Miss?"

"Ste…Stephanie." The girl managed.

"Alright Stephanie, we're taking you into a room to have your baby, is there someone we can contact for you? Your husband? Boyfriend? Parents?"

"Not… married. No… boyfriend. Call… Don." Her face was pale like alabaster.

"Sorry, Don? Don who? Is he your father?"

"Call… Don." She repeated, tapping her hand against her purse.

"His number is in here?" The doctor prodded through her belongings. The woman before him passed into unconsciousness.

"Get this woman some water, and crank the heat in her room. Use the warming pads, and watch her nose. It's got some frostbite on it."

Dr. James pulled a small yellow card from within the moneyfold of her wallet; it had the initials SC &amp; P, followed by Donald F. Draper, imprinted upon its face, and then a phone number below. The doctor veered off from the main hall and walked to a receptionist's desk, grabbing an open phone, and dialing the number.

"Hello? Could I speak to a Mr. Donald F. Draper?"

* * *

"Did you see that one dad! Did you see that chimp? He's huge!"

"That's an ape, Bobby." Don ruffled his eldest son's hair.

"Oh, right."

Sally had moved from her brothers to amuse herself by talking to one of the more attractive zoo keepers, most likely in his late teens.

"So how often do you work here?" she questioned.

"Three times a week. Tuesday's, Thursday's and Sunday's. You come here much."

"I'm here with my dad." She looked to Don, who had Bobby on his shoulders, telescoping him above a small crowd in front of the ape's den. Gene was clinging to his leg. "This is my first time here."

"It's really cool once you get to know the animals. Come by some other time, maybe we'll talk."

"Sure." Sally smiled coyly. "See you around then."

"Sally!" Don raised his voice.

"Yeah dad." She responded, her hands running through her hair. "Time to go, I have to stop back at the office for an hour."

"Fine!" She yelled back, moving reluctantly towards her siblings and father.

It was noon when they departed Central Park Zoo, headed back towards Park Avenue. Gene had fallen asleep again, not saying much at all, and Bobby wouldn't quit about the ape's and the lion named Charlie.

"What did you like about the zoo?" Bobby swung around the passenger seat to catch his sister's attention.

"The seals. They were pretty cool. Just laid around and swam the whole time."

"That's boring." Bobby plotted himself back into his seat. "I loved the lion, he was so cool! Did you see the size of that thing's teeth? It could cut you in half in one bite!"

"I don't think it could actually cut you in half in one bite, Bobby. It's not a knife."

"Yes it could! It's huge."

"No, it couldn't"

Don already sensed the direction of conversation.

"Alright, enough." He butted in. "It doesn't matter; Sally quit pestering your brother. Bobby, quit bothering your sister. And don't sit up from your seat. It's dangerous."

"Sorry, dad." Bobby said, with undue sarcasm.

"What he said." Sally added, staring at her nails painted hot pink.

The rest of the car ride passed in silence as the Cadillac roamed the Sunday streets of New York, in search of a parking stall to consume outside of 200 Park Avenue.

"Could I have a smoke?" Sally asked as they stepped out from the elevator onto the white tiled floor.

"Sure. Don't give one to your brother. Ever."

"Alright, alright." She lit up a thin Benson &amp; Hedges. Don pushed through the giant oak doors to a surprise of the main lights being illuminated.

"Hello." He said. No response.

"Anyone here?" Don removed his fedora and over coat, turning them over his arm.

"Mr. Draper!" A familiar voice echoed from the Traffic room. Dawn Chambers stepped out from the door way, a worried looked covered her face.

"Why are you here?" He moved towards Dawn, motioning for his children to follow.

"Well I was here to do inventory when I got a call, I've been trying to reach you all morning at the apartment; it's an emergency."

"What's going on?" Don's heart raced, his mind swimming for the answer of who could be hurt, and why. Was it Megan? Did she overdose on drugs? Was it Betts? Did she get into an accident?

"Channing Park Hospital, in Detroit called. A woman is giving birth there, and she asked specifically for you. Her name is Stephanie."

Horror place itself on Draper's regularly impassive visage.

"Oh god, it's already been two months?" He looked down to his watch. "Did they leave a number I could call them back at? Sally put my coat on the hanger."

"Here's the card." Dawn handed him a small sheet of paper.

"I'll use the phone in my office."

Dawn nodded as Draper flew past his children and into his workspace. He dialed the number feverishly.

"Hello? This is Don Draper, do you have a patient just recently admitted? Her name is Stephanie, she's in her twenties, blonde hair… yes, yes, I'll hold."

Sally dragged Gene into Don's office by the arm, and Bobby trialed behind them.

"Stephanie, my God, are you alright?"

"Well hello to you too." The voice on the opposite end sounded strained and exhausted.

"I'm sorry I missed you, the date, it slipped my mind."

"It's alright Don." Stephanie smiled. "I'm just glad you got back to me. How are you?"

"I'm alright. Good as could be expected. How are you? Have you had the baby?"

"Yes," she sighed. "He's one cute baby boy, I will say that. He really took it all out of me, leaving my body and all."

Don smiled brightly. "I'll come see you first thing."

His gaze suddenly gravitated towards his daughter, whose jaw was generously mashing chewing gum, then to his son, playing with his pens on a small cabinet, and to Gene who stared at his father in wonder.

"We'll come see you, first thing." Don repeated.

"We'll? You mean you and Megan?"

"No, Sally, Bobby, Gene, and I."

"I get to meet the famiglia Draper?" an excitement filled Stephanie, her eyes gazed at her newborn son cradled in her arms. "When?"

"I'll drive to the airport right now. We'll see you soon, and this time, don't leave before I get there."

Stephanie laughed. "Wouldn't dare. I can barely even stand up. Oh, and Don?"

"Yes?"

"I named him Dick. See you soon." With that, she hung up the phone.

* * *

The afternoon sun was burning high in the sky beside Cayuga Lake when Betty Francis dipped into its waters. The cooling sensation gave her the bumps but it calmed her nerves. She and Henry had just got into a fight over the children being left with Don all weekend, and she needed a moment to breathe on her own. The silence was welcoming as blankets to a cold evening. She placed her sunglasses dockside, and plunged deep into the abyss. The water ran its fingers through her hair, and chilled her head. She was further out from the dock, doing constant breast stokes, and then treaded water for a long moment.

Within a few minutes Henry emerged from the house, walking towards the waters.

"Betty." He called out.

She ignored him momentarily, and then swam towards the dock.

"Betty." He raised his tone.

"I could hear you just fine. Give me a moment." The young Mrs. Francis pulled herself from the water, and sat along the dock. "What is it?"

"Don called. He's flying the kids to Detroit this afternoon to see a relative, are you okay with that?"

"Relative? Don doesn't have any relatives. He's probably taking them on some business meeting."

"Should I call back and tell him no?"

"He wouldn't listen to you, Henry. When Don makes up his mind, he gets his way." There was a moment of mourning after she finished her sentence. She longed for a man who stood up for himself, even at the cost of her feelings. Henry didn't provide that for her. He always came back to reconcile and apologize, even if he wasn't at fault. Grow a spine, Betty thought.

"Let him take them. We can stay here the extra night." She wrapped a towel around her cold shoulders.

"I can't Betty, I have work tomorrow morning. Unless we leave at 4:00 A.M., I wouldn't make it."

"Fine." She huffed. "So much for a weekend at the lake. And what about the children? They're just going to miss school then? Unless he plans to fly them back tonight. I wish he would run these things by me."

"Don't worry about them, this weekend is about you, and I." Henry boomed.

"Alright. I just wish we had more time."

"We'll come back next week." Henry smiled, and Betty returned a slight one. "Looks like the McAllister's are out." Henry motioned to Clara and a man sitting beside her, sunbathing. "We should go say hello."

"Like this, Henry? I should put some clothes on."

"They've already seen you. Then again, I get to show off my beautiful wife."

"Oh stop it." Betty chuckled. "Fine."

Betty tucked the towel around her waist and walked quickly to the opposing lot, Henry on her heels.

"Clara, it's good to see you." Betty smiled. The young brunette sitting on the chair opened her eyes, pulling off a pair of black sunglasses.

"Betty, likewise." They hugged quickly. "And good to see you Henry."

"You as well."

Alec recognized the voice, the moment she spoke he cracked his eyes to search for its origin. A small knot formed when he realized who it was, standing quickly.

"Mrs. Francis…" he fumbled for words. "We m-met, at the office on Friday.

"Of course, how could I forget." Betty smiled brazenly. "Alec McLane, this is my husband, Henry Francis." Henry reached out and shook Alec's hand curtly.

"What brings you out here at this time of year?" Henry spoke.

"I came to pick up some papers from home. I'm not really one for driving, and so Alec volunteered to drive me. It's such a nice day here; I couldn't leave without showing him around."

"No doubt." Betty's smiled grew further and her eyes didn't depart the young man beside Clara. She felt a deep infatuation beginning, something that was silly and would probably die eventually, but none the less, it excited her.

"You both should stay for an early dinner." Betty blurted. "You can't come to Cayuga Lake and not have fresh fish. Henry just caught it yesterday."

Alec looked to Clara for a response.

"Of course, we'd be delighted."

"Come over at 4:00. It should be ready then."

"Look forward to it." Clara smiled as Henry and Betty walked back to the house.

"When was Betty Francis at the office?" Clara opened.

"At three or something on Friday. She dropped of her kids with Don."

"They're ex's?" Clara's tone indicated more indignation at herself for not discovering the fact sooner. "Small world."

"Why did you invite them over?" Henry interrogated.

"Why not? It's a beautiful day and it would be nice to have some company. We don't have to leave now, and speed back to Rye."

"Well I was kind of hoping to wind down tonight, take it easy, and leave at our own pace."

"We can't do that?"

"Well it just pushes back our time. I wanted to discuss what happened earlier."

"Then let's discuss it now." Betty placed an apron around her waist and fastened it.

"I'm sorry I yelled. I lost my temper."

"Alright. I understand your upset. Now let's put it behind us." _Be angry at me, will you?_

"Good, I want to as well. I just think we shouldn't leave the kids with Don. He's an alcoholic, deranged, and a liar. He's a bad influence on the kids."

"Don't say that about him. He may have been a bad husband, but he loves our children."

"No he doesn't, he just deals with them. He barely has consistent conversations with them."

"Henry, you don't know that. You're never around him with them. I was, for ten years. He may have been cold at times, but he was a good father."

"Betty, how can you say that, he slept around."

"He was a good father!" She smashed a plate against the countertop, shattering it into pieces. A large sliver cut a gash into her index finger, and blood slowly dripped to the floor.

"Betty," Henry moved towards her but she put out her hand.

"Don't." she mouthed. "I'll clean this up. You go and shave, and get cleaned up."

"I'm sor…"

"Go, Henry!" Exasperation filled her voice. He lifted his hands in surrender and left Betty to herself in the kitchen. Blood began pooling on the counter and she wrapped her finger with gauze and taped it tightly. One hour remained until Alec and Clara came over.

Forty minutes later, the stove was covered in pans cooking her meal. There was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Betty shouted over the boiling water and fan buzzing.

"Sorry t-to intrude, Mrs. Francis. Cl-lara sent me with this dessert." He fumbled through the doorway and brought a layer cake to the large dining table.

"How thoughtful!" Betty walked over to the cake, admiring its craftsmanship. "Mrs. McAllister made this, no doubt."

"I do believe so." Alec said. "Where is Mr. Francis?"

"He's loading the car. We're leaving after supper, although I protested. Please, it's Henry and Betty. None of this Mr. and Mrs. Francis."

"Of course, of course." Alec grinned, followed by Betty.

There was a brief silence that descended upon the room.

"Would you like a tour? It's a small house from the outside but the inside is fairly spacious."

"Certainly." Alec jumped at the chance.

They began with the kitchen, and the rear entrance from the lake, followed by the adjoining master bedroom. The dining room was beside that, along with the long winding staircase to the loft.

Alec stepped into the opening and admired the long barreled rifle mounted below a buffalo head. "This is old." He mumbled.

"This is where we put the kids when they come, which is fairly infrequently lately." She sighed, following Alec in. "Quaint though, isn't it."

"I'm not much for interior decorating."

Betty laughed and walked over to him, looking up to the buffalo.

"I told him to get rid of that thing. It's unsightly."

"I wouldn't do much better."

They both laughed, facing each other. When the laughter died, they both caught each other's glances and suddenly a silence enveloped the room. It was almost deafening to Betty. She couldn't hear her own thoughts.

Alec took a step closer in compulsion, and Betty did nothing to stop him, or move away. He was now nearly against her. Leaning in quickly, he kissed her.

It took Betty by surprise, and something whispered to her to stop, but she couldn't pull herself away, she couldn't deny her heart what it wanted. Her mind was a fire of explosions, some screaming yes, and others boisterously saying no. Her body followed every move Alec made. Slowly he pushed her back against the wall, and moved his kisses down her neck. Betty sighed and closed her eyes.

"For a quiet guy…" she groaned. "You sure aren't quiet."

"Sometimes, there's nothing to be said." He paused, pulling away to look her in the eyes. "Sometimes, there's something to be done."

"Betty!" Henry yelled from the first floor. Alec drew away quickly. Betty fixed her hair with a stroke of her hand and yelled back.

"Up in the loft! Giving Alec a tour of the Francis' residence."

It played something exciting in Alec, to know he finally did something risky. Something people wouldn't approve of. His father had always played accordingly, and it had gotten him some places, but not all. He married the sister of the woman he was in love with. He co-founded a decent car dealership in the east, he did alright. Alec didn't want alright.

"I'll find you." He murmured. "When we get back to town."

Betty's lips contorted into a slight smile.


	5. Chapter 5

Stephanie was standing with her intervenes stand and bag, looking through the second floor window of Channing Park Hospital when Dick mad his first attempts at connection. He unfolded his tiny hands, and grasped out to his mothers, grabbing hold tightly of her right arm. Stephanie smiled and lifted him into her cradled arms. It was close to feeding time. The sky was overcast, and small blots of rain were covering the bustling motor city. There was a wrap on her door.

"Ms. Stephanie?" The coloured nurse named Hilde stuck her head in. "Hope I'm not intruding at all."

"No, no. What is it."

"There's someone here to see you, a Mr. Donald Draper, and his children."

Her face lit up as the fourth of July.

"Send them in!" She took baby Dick to her bed, and slid under the covers, awaiting Don's presence. A minute passed, and the large door swung open, Sally entering first followed by Gene and Bobby, Don taking up the rear. He grinned seeing his half-niece with her son.

"Stephanie." He began.

"Don, I'm glad you could make it."

"I'm glad you called." He hung his wet fedora and overcoat on a small hanger beside the door. "Where's your mother?" he looked around.

"My mother and I don't really talk anymore. She didn't even know I was expecting, to be honest. When I went to the commune she sort of disowned me."

"Well then it's a good thing I'm here."

"Certainly is." She smiled as Don came to the bedside.

"Stephanie, this is my daughter Sally. Sally this is my… niece, Stephanie." Sally turned to her father, raising a brow, and then looked to the woman in the bed.

"Nice to meet you." She shook Stephanie's hand.

"I've heard so much about you." Stephanie smiled. "You look even better than your pictures.

"Thanks. Weird, dad hasn't mentioned you."

Don's face turned slightly red, but Stephanie was unphased.

"Well, there is a reason for that. Do you want to hold baby Dick for me?"

"Sure." Sally smiled, taking the child from his mother. Stephanie stood up from bed, and walked over to Bobby, who was also staring out the window.

"You must be Bobby, am I right?"

He retracted slightly, but turned to face her.

"Yeah that's me. So you're my cousin then?"

"Something like that." Stephanie smiled to lower the tension, and it worked: Bobby smiled back.

"Okay, that's cool. Do you live here? I don't really like Detroit. It's too rainy."

Stephanie laughed. "No, I'm from California originally, on the other side of the country. By happenstance, I ended up here, alone."

"Don't worry." Bobby assured. "Dad will take care of you. He's a good man, you know."

"This I know." She looked momentarily to Don who was pushing the baby blonde hairs from Dick's chubby face.

"And you must be Gene." The little boy looked to Stephanie, but said nothing in return. Bobby added quickly,

"Gene doesn't talk much. I think he said five words on the plane: pee, poo, water, and… other things. I don't remember. He's in special kindergarten, they think he's dumb or something."

"Some people start talking later." Stephanie descended to kneel at Bobby's level, being mindful of her IV. "I didn't really talk to anyone until I was eight or nine. Then I wouldn't shut up."

Bobby roared in laughter.

"Nine years old! That's so old! Maybe Gene will be like that too."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Sally looked up from the baby.

"There was no right time to tell you." Don bent down. "I thought this would be a better way. Stephanie is the daughter of my best friend's sister. Now that my friend is gone, she has no one left. Megan and I saw her a few months ago in Los Angeles, and she needed help. Like any family would, I helped her out."

"Okay." Sally looked back down, and then up to him. "You can tell me these things. I'm not going to go tell mom. You should trust me more." She looked back down the baby, and allowed him to suck on her index finger. "He is really cute."

Don said nothing, but kissed his eldest on her forehead, and stood to see Stephanie playing with Bobby.

There was a moment of true inner peace in himself: the old coming together with the new. Everything Don had worked to keep apart had somehow, two decades later, found itself playing together in the same room in harmony. He never thought the day would come. Secretly, there was want for this. A want for his lie to be exposed and born to the world. He wanted Betty to find those pictures; he wanted her to confront him. It was a relief, not having to bear this burden. It was all over.

"How long are you in the hospital?" Don moved to Stephanie who stood up from Bobby.

"Until Thursday, unless I check myself out early. I'll probably leave tomorrow, I don't have the money to stay any longer."

"Don't worry about the money. I already paid."

Stephanie's eyes began welling with tears, she embraced Don tightly.

"I would decline the offer, but it seems I don't have a choice."

Just then, baby Dick began crying, and Sally wandered over to Stephanie.

"I think he's hungry." She passed him on.

"No doubt, he hasn't eaten in a while. You guys don't have to stay for this." She laughed.

"Take Gene and Bobby, and wait outside." Don said to Sally. "I'll be out in a minute."

Stephanie took the baby, and lifted him underneath her gown and up to her chest.

"Oakland didn't work out then?"

"The community had already moved on." She adjusted her arm to support Dick's head. "When I got there, it was just an empty apartment block. I hitchhiked east until I reached Minnesota, stayed there for a week or two, and then hitched it to Detroit. I sold off my shoes, my old coat, I found this disgusting fur coat in a ditch by Salisbury. After it dried, it was alright. Kept me warm, except for my feet which feel like they need amputation."

"You have enough bandages to save a burn patient."

The younger woman laughed.

"They say it will heal in a month, as long as I take the medication to keep infection away." She paused, and then looked up to her uncle. "Thank you, Don. You didn't need to do this."

"I know. I promised Anna I would take care of you, when I saw her last." He sat down beside her. "I want you to come to New York, with the kids and I."

"What? No I couldn't do that. Not only is that imposing, but it's a waste of space and money."

"There is plenty of space. I have plenty of money, the firm was just subsidized into another firm, and we were all paid out."

"You've done enough for one lifetime for me. I couldn't put you out like that."

"Take care of the kids then, when I work late. I have company when they're gone too."

"What about Megan?" Stephanie pulled Dick out from under her cloak and wiped his lips with a cloth. "She wasn't very fond of me."

"Megan is like that. It takes her a while to warm up. We're also separated now. I'm still taking care of her, financially. But, it's over."

"I'm sorry, Don. I didn't mean…"

"Don't be sorry. It was creative differences. New York is my home, Los Angeles is hers. I should have known better when I married an actress."

"You mean this? You can't take it back if I come. Just until I get back on my feet, right?"

"Long as it takes." He smiled, and she returned the gesture.

"Nothing I could do could repay this debt." She leaned over and hugged Don.

"I don't expect a repayment." He stood from the bed. "I'm going to make the arrangements with the hospital for you to leave on Tuesday, giving you time to rest. You'll leave Tuesday night, I already bought your ticket, you call me at home when you get to JFK."

"I've said this too much, but thank you."

"No more thanks." He smiled. "Just follow through with it."

* * *

"I don't like the way that young man was looking at you." Henry Francis broke the stillness in his car as he and Betty drove through the evening back towards Rye.

"Henry, he's a young boy. He sees something attractive, and then he wants it. It doesn't mean he gets it." Betty smiled assuredly.

"Still, you were giving him a few glances here and there."

"I was holding conversation." She flipped the head visor to check her make-up. "It's good to keep eye contact. It helps people feel engaged."

"Alright." Henry rolled the window down an inch, and lit a Lucky Strike.

"Just alright?"

"There's nothing else to say. I trust you."

"Obviously not, if you brought this up."

"That wasn't my intention." His voice became much firmer. "It just didn't sit well with me the way you two were looking at each other."

"Like what, Henry?" Betty turned quickly and raised her tone.

"As if you wanted him."

"You're so diluted." Betty turned back and lit a Benson &amp; Hedges. "What about Narine? Our babysitter? You've given her more than a few casual glances."

"Narine? The girl is nineteen Betty. That's almost rape."

"So what? Doesn't mean you don't look at her."

"Listen, I'm married to you. I love you. I don't think of Narine that way."

"Good. Her manners are distasteful sometimes too."

"Then we can get a new babysitter."

"I don't want a new babysitter." Betty protested. "I like Narine. She's the only person Gene will talk to."

"And that worries me. I think we should take him to see a child psychologist."

"We don't have the money, those people are scoundrels. They rob you blind."

"We have the money, and look what it did for Sally. Straightened her out." Henry quipped.

"Did it though? Or was that just time, like I said it would be."

"Fine, we don't have to. I just worry for Gene's future in school. It's hard to make friends when you don't talk out loud."

"So you think he's dumb then?"

"I think he needs help." Henry's face became flushed, and anger was rising in his veins. "Stop turning everything I say into an accusation. I've had enough of this."

Henry leaned to the radio, and tuned the dial to a station playing older jazz music. His nerves began settling as Betty sat in silence, staring intently to the road ahead.

"I'm glad you think my children are dumb."

Henry lashed out. "Shut up, Betty!"

She was taken aback. Rarely did Henry scream loudly enough to shake the air. This time he did. Henry's hand was raised into an open palm, and his eyes burned with frustration.

"Hit me." Betty smirked. "It will be the first manly thing you've done all weekend."

By the time she realized she had miscalculated her husband's anger, it was too late. The open palm came sweeping across her cheek, and pushed her face into the side window, knocking her from reality for a moment. Rage fueled inside Betty's heart and she saw nothing but red.

"Listen, Betty, I'm sorry." Henry began. "I shoudn't ha-"

With a swift motion she lashed out for the steering wheel, ripping it hard to the right. The car careened towards a guardrail and slammed into it, bursting the front headlamp and bending the bumper into the front right tire. Now infuriated, Henry threw his wife from the wheel and pulled the car hard to the left, bringing it back into its lane, but the damage was done. As the wheel corrected itself the bent bumper punctured the wheel walls and removed the tire from its rim. The sedan shot hard to the right, dragging itself along twenty feet of guardrail, sparks flying into the air. Henry made one final attempt to save the car by leaning and yanking the wheel hard left, but to no avail. The guardrail came to an end and the car left the roadway; flipping twice on its way into the sharp shouldered ditch, bursting through a barbed wire fence, and coming to rest on its side ten feet into a grassy field.

Betty Francis left consciousness to the sight of blood, covering her hands and the dashboard in front of her.

* * *

Roger Sterling sat up in bed, his face covered in sweat. The blurred memory of the night before was slowly pieced together by the scene before him. Ten bottles of champagne were spread around the room, three naked women were on the floor and one shirtless man was lying on his bed. Rolling off the bed, he landed on the floor.

"I can't feel my legs." He muttered, his words slurring. "Am I still drunk?" No, he was lucid, more or less. Fear swept over him. "Hey." He grabbed one of the girl's arms. "Hey you,"

The girl turned over from her sleep to face him.

"What is it Roger, I'm still sleepy." She rubbed her eyes.

"Why can't I walk, or talk!" He shouted.

"It's the drugs, honey. They'll wear off soon. Don't worry. It happens all the time." The woman smiled, rolled over, and fell back to sleep.

"Great." Roger huffed. "Just great."

There was a telephone on a stand, four feet from Roger's head. He looked up briefly and then began dragging himself towards the stand. With a few spins of the rotary, the phone began ringing. It rang out a long while before a feminine voice picked up the phone.

"Hello?" The voice was groggy and muffled.

"Joannie, it's me." His words were near unintelligible.

"Who is this?"

"It's me, Roger."

"Are you drunk?" the voice said, suddenly more awake.

"No, I'm not. I've been mugged."

"Mugged?"

"Drugged!" He shouted. "I've been drugged."

"By whom, Roger? Where are you?"

"Continental Hotel, on Bilshire Wouleverd." He paused. "Wilshire Boulevard!"

"This better be serious." Joan muttered. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Bye, bye!" Roger hung up the phone. He looked around at the sorry scene before him and let out a deep sigh. His overcoat clung to a hanger on the other side of the room. "Now the trek back." He grumbled, pushing a few bottles aside. Crawling was his best option, and so he used it, stumbling many times over the women scattered about.

With his coat on, and his ability to stand slowly returning, he left the room, making his way towards the elevator. He found the ground floor button after a few moments of questioning, and then collapsed against the wall after losing his balance.

"Roger!" Joan shouted, pouring some water onto his face. "Wake up!"

The snoring ceased and the man awoke.

"Never been gladder to see you." He attempted to stand, but slouched back. Joan grabbed his arm, hoisting Roger up.

"What did you drink last night?"

"I'm not drunk!" his slurring had lessened and was much more comprehendible

"It's something they put in the champagne."

Joan helped Roger from the elevator by the arm. "Who?"

"Just some people I had over, some friends."

"Obviously they are not your friends."

The pair were now standing in the cool air of the early morning in New York City. Joan hailed a cab.

"200 Park Avenue." Roger blurted, throwing himself down into his seat.

"You're going to the office?" She sat down beside him. "At this hour? The building won't even open for another two hours."

"There's no point in me going home." The taxi took off. "Besides, maybe I can get ahead on work."

"Alright, but you should lie down, and have a lot of water. You're dehydrated, and pale as a ghost."

"Where did I ever go wrong, Joannie?" He whimpered. "How did I end up here?"

Without much thought, Joan Harris quipped, "A lack of fortitude in your endeavors. You give up too easily."

"I meant from last night, but thank you for the vote of confidence."

"I'm being realistic, Roger."

"Yes," He muttered. "I guess you are."

The rest of the cab ride passed in silence, Roger occasionally rolling down the window to gasp for fresh air and cool his throbbing head ache. At 6:00, the cab pulled up to 200 Park Avenue, and Roger paid the fare.

"Go home, Joannie" he instructed, passing the driver a twenty dollar bill. "Come in at noon."

"I'll stay and help you." She began stepping out from the car, but Roger stopped her.

"Go home. You've done enough for me."

"You'll be okay?"

"I'll be just fine." He slammed the car door shut and staggered slightly, walking to the glass front doors. Turning a large key in the door locks of the building, they opened with ease.

Once upstairs, Sterling made his way through the darkened halls and towards his office on the second floor.

"Roger, a moment please?"

The voice echoed through the area.

"Who's there?" Roger spun around trying to locate the person in question, but could find no significant source. "Where are you?"

"I've never left." The voice was now much clearer and distinguishable.

"Bert? I thought you were dead."

"I am Roger." Bertram Cooper spoke in a calm tone, with no emotion. Suddenly he was standing in the doorway of his old office. "Come, sit down."

Roger followed the instructions, removing his shoes at the door, and sitting in the dark office on the old, rotting, couch.

"Why did you come back?" Roger asked. Bert was now sitting behind his desk; an odd warm glow surrounded him.

"I needed to tell you to stop being so frivolous. You're wasting your life away. All the drugs, sex, and alcohol, they are diluting your mind. Enough."

"I'm sorry." Roger mumbled. "But it helps me get through the dull, boring, work of every single day."

"That's life, Roger!" The ghostly figure boomed. "Stop covering it up with fake highs. Grow old gracefully. Your hair is grey, and some think you as a newborn child."

"Like whom, Bert? Who thinks I am a sham."

"Like Joan Harris, the woman you once adored not so long ago. Like Jim Cutler, your work partner. Like Ted Chaough."

"Well Ted almost sold himself down the river, he doesn't count."

"No matter." Bert stood, and moved to lean onto his desk, closer to Roger. "You have a weak heart, my friend. You always have. You quit drinking in '62 for what, three months?"

"Two months." Roger's heart began beating faster. There was a numbing sensation in his left arm. "Oh, Bert, don't let me die."

"You aren't going to die." Bert mumbled. "But you need to stop this, especially for your son, and your daughter."

"Fine," Roger cried out. "Fine. Send it all to hell."

The pain in his arm ceased, and his heart began slowing down.

"Good. Don't forget what I've told you. You won't be around forever, but now is not the time to check out early. Goodbye, Peanut."

Bert moved slowly towards the wall and disappeared in a flash of white light.

"Bert! Wait!" There was no response. "Why did you leave? I never even got to say goodbye! You didn't leave me any closure!" He was nearly screaming at this point, but yet again, there was no response.

"Damnit!" he screamed. His knees began giving out, and a cold sweat came over Roger Sterling. There was a humming in his ears, and suddenly the black out.

"I think he's waking up…" the voices were muffled and distant.

"Bert, is that you?" Roger replied. "Have you come back."

"He must be delusional, do we need a doctor?" The voice became clearer, and was from a man, but not Bert.

"Who is that?"

"Roger, it's me." Ted Chaough said through a haze of other voices. Roger opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor in the gathering area of the second floor. Ten or so of the other secretaries had gathered around him, and a pitcher of water was at his side.

"Are you okay? We walked upstairs and found you on the ground, talking in your sleep." Ted lifted Roger's back and helped him sit on the sofa nearby. "How long have you been here?"

"What time is it?"

"Half past eight." Ted looked down to his golden watch.

"Since six. I thought I would come in and start work early. I guess not."

Some of the secretaries giggled, and Roger smiled.

"Some Alka-Seltzer and water, and I'll be fine." He stood up, feeling a pang in his heart and winced. "Just need to walk it off."

"Alright, take it easy."

The voice of Bert Cooper's overlaid Ted's.

"Take it easy."

* * *

Alec and Clara kissed passionately on the roadside in his Studebaker. They had left Cayuga Lake at 8:30, a short while after leaving the Francis' residence. Mr. and Mrs. McAllister gave a heartwarming au revoir, and sent them home with two loaves of banana bread.

Clara was sitting on Alec's lap facing him, adorning him with long kisses to his neck and jaw line.

"We should keep driving." Alec mumbled. "We'll never make it home otherwise."

Clara moved over from his lap and onto the centre seat.

"You're so frustrating." She giggled. "You fluster me like that, and then deny me. Woe is me."

"We'll continue once we arrive home." He reassured.

Ole' Bessie started with a rumble, and the car began moving back down the highway. The clear night was an open expanse in the sky above them, and the cars on the roadway were few and far between.

"I love these kind of nights." Clara rolled down the window, lighting a cigarette. "They remind me of my childhood."

"How so?" Alec took a Kool from his pocket and lit up.

"I used to sit outside for hours watching the night roll by, my friend Bertie and I. He lived next door. I haven't seen him in probably ten years. Anyway, we would go up on the veranda roof from my bedroom, lie on the shingles and watch the stars, trying to count them all. I think at last count we had five hundred and some."

"Keppler said there was 1005." Alec mumbled.

"Who's that?" Clara blew a plume of smoke out the window.

"A scientist from a long time ago. That must have been really boring, counting every star."

Clara laughed, "Not with me, it's not. We would discuss our futures the whole time."

"And what did you plan?" Alec inhaled on the Kool.

"Like every little girl, I wanted to grow up to be someone like Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, or Joan Fontaine. I love Joan Fontaine. She's just got that wit about her, you know? Either that or I wanted to be a singer, like June Carter." She smoked. "And what about you? What did you dream of?"

"I don't remember, really. Leaving my hometown, that was my only plan." Alec flicked the cigarette onto the road. "I grew up on an acreage in rural Alberta. Dad drove to work every day into a small town call Ryley. Most of my memories revolved around Saturdays spent around town with my friend Adam. We would get ourselves into all sorts of trouble." Alec smiled, staring ahead to the endless tarmac.

"So there is a person on the inside of the body." Clara smiled sardonically. "Nice to hear you have a past and didn't appear from an alien invasion."

"Well I'd tell you if you asked. You know I don't just tell everyone everything."

"Or anything." Clara said under her breath. She looked briefly out the window while rolling it up to see a pair of headlights, flickering in a field. "Looks like one of the farmers is up late doing a harvest."

Alec looked over to the adjacent field, seeing the lights. As they approached, the lights became more distinguishable to that of a car's.

"Oh my god." Clara gasped. "That' a car. Pull over!" She screamed. Alec swerved the Studebaker onto the shoulder, and killed the engine. They both hopped from the car in a flash, and dashed down the ditch, passing carefully over the barbed wire.

"It's Henry Francis' car." Alec said; Clara's face now visibly contorted to horror. "I saw them leave twenty minutes before us."

Clara ran up to the passenger door and found Betty Francis sitting up, slouched against the car. Her face and hair were covered in blood that had trickled down to her dress, staining it crimson.

"Betty! Betty!" Clara yelped. The young brunette knelt down beside the injured woman. "Betty, can you hear me?"

"Yes." She mumbled. "I can… hear you."


End file.
